


done with having dreams

by jolybird



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Jehan and Feuilly are brothers, M/M, Mentioned Past Child Abuse, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, mentioned past broken bones, mentioned past death of a parent, mentioned past minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolybird/pseuds/jolybird
Summary: Combeferre didn’t really care about love and dreams and romance. There were too many other important things to focus on—friendship, the future and taking care of others just because he wanted to. Life was meant to be lived, not dreamt and that was sort of The Problem.Entire industries were built around the fact that, starting the moment you turned seventeen, some of your dreams were actually the memories of your soulmate. If it sounds invasive, that’s because it was.;;Combeferre/Jehan soulmate AU for The Miserable(s) Month: Intrepid
Relationships: Combeferre/Jean Prouvaire
Kudos: 5





	done with having dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Life is mega crazy hard right now but I'm mega crazy determined to write all these drabbles so that's that. 💅 I accidentally got a little attached to this universe and that’s why this is nearly 10k when I originally planned for under 2k. Whoops! 
> 
> Written for The Miserable(s) Month, Prompt IDK but it's "Intrepid". Tile is from Last of the Real Ones by Fall Out Boy.

Combeferre didn’t really care about love and dreams and romance. There were too many other important things to focus on—friendship, the future, and taking care of others just because he wanted to. Life was meant to be lived, not dreamt and that was sort of The Problem. 

Entire industries were built around the fact that, starting the moment you turned seventeen, some of your dreams were actually the memories of your soulmate. If it sounds invasive, that’s because it was. 

People spent their lives asleep, hoping for a dream that would show them their soulmate when—if they only opened their eyes—they would realize that there were so many people right in front of them who deserved their compassion, who loved them more than the images created by synapses firing in their brains. 

And what of those with damaged hippocampuses? Everyone said they were doomed to never find their soulmate, pitied and ostracized although their lives are otherwise filled with the same love as everyone else. Bossuet was born without the ability to dream, a birth defect that in another world would be nothing but a fun fact on a first date. Society treated him horribly but soulmates did not make your life complete. They had learned that young, before Bossuet even came into their lives. 

Enjolras’ seventeenth birthday had been a whirlwind, it had been his, Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s first Pride and they had collapsed in an exhausted, glittering, colorful pile in Enjolras’ bed. They were laughing and giggling and Courfeyrac kept whispering that he felt nauseous because he had eaten his weight in funnel cake and empanadas (exclusively, all day).

Combeferre had fallen asleep completely content at at peace with the world for possibly the first time in all his teenage years. 

Enjolras had woken them with screams hours later, he flinched away from them both and then suddenly reached out and hugged them. He had cried uncontrollably for what felt like hours, unable to talk, unable to catch his breath, until Courfeyrac managed to calm him down by giving him a piece of chocolate of all things. The taste on his tongue was the only thing to bring him back to the present. 

The dreams you had of your soulmate weren’t always pleasant and for his best friend, they were always nightmares. 

So how could you say soulmates automatically equaled love?

For four years Enjolras lived off of coffee and anxiety medication. He pushed himself until he was exhausted. He had timers on his phone for every ninety minutes throughout the night so he would never slip into REM sleep. 

They had found Enjolras’ soulmate in Uni. Grantaire was an artist and he had drawn pictures of Courfeyrac and Combeferre from his dreams. Well, not as he saw them in dreams for they were always scared and angry in the nightmares. He had imagined them wild and carefree (which, of course, they _had_ been as well but of course Grantaire wasn’t privy to those memories). Grantaire’s best friend Bossuet had found Courfeyrac because of the pictures and apologized on the spot for knowing way too much about their childhoods. He knew about the bruises and broken bones and stitches and when Courfeyrac had dragged Bossuet to their shared dorm room, Enjolras had surprised them all by laughing. It must have been somewhat of a relief to know your darkest secrets were protected by those who had unauthorized access to them. Heavens knew what Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s soulmates had dreamt. Grantaire had told Bossuet, Joly and Musichetta but none of them breathed a word to anyone else. Which was good because some of Enjolras’ worst memories involved them in situations that weren’t quite...always legal. It was nothing _bad, they_ weren’t _criminals_ but they had certainly broken into several government buildings in their youth. Enjolras had once spray painted every window on the ground floor of the Hôtel de Rochechouart during a particularly bad night, although Grantaire thought it was simply _hilarious_ because _he_ was the one with the _beef_ with the minister of national education, not Enjolras.

There were so many news reports of soulmates betraying trust, of exploiting a stranger because they shared memories. It would have been easy to report them for any manner of things. They were teenagers, they had left traces (namely Courfeyrac’s favorite beanie which he nearly attempted to steal from an evidence room). 

Enjolras and Grantaire were one of the main reasons he didn’t believe in soulmates. All their dreams were nightmares that always left them shaken. Enjolras had seen Grantaire’s mother die and Grantaire had felt the way Enjolras' arm had snapped under nothing but his father’s grip. They shared each other’s trauma and if it weren't for being each other’s soulmates, they might be able to actually sleep through the night. For, when Enjolras abused coffee, Grantaire turned to drink. When they first met there had been relief that their soulmate was trustworthy and plagued as they were with nightmares (because it made them feel like they weren’t alone—although heavens knew they hadn’t communicated _that_ clearly the first ten times they had an argument). Then they had fought about everything. The very notion of soulmate was misleading—Combeferre didn’t even get along with himself most of the time, so how could anyone else be perfectly in tune with you every second of every day. It was fictional garbage that capitalism latched onto to bleed humanity for every sent it could. 

Grantaire and Enjolras had eventually broken through the argument period and had been dating for two years at this point but that was an active choice on their part. They chose to fight for each other, to believe in each other, to make chamomile tea by the pitchers to get them through to morning together. 

They loved each other but it was despite being soulmates, not because of it. So how could anyone say soulmates were the end all for relationships?

Combeferre didn't have many dreams of his soulmate’s memories, at least, not that he could really tell. When he was seventeen he had a dream of the night sky that had _felt_ real. There was one dream of being very small and walking through the woods but there had also been a massive owl on a tree stump, wings outstretched and Combeferre asked it for the way home and it swooped off through the trees. Combeferre had woken as he chased after it. 

Recently, however, Combeferre had been dreaming of the seas. Of ships. 

Of, honest to god, pirate ships. 

Last night had been the most vivid one yet, he had been in a rowboat beside a huge brigantine and the name had been clear: _The Intrepid_. 

He thought about keeping it to himself (none of his friends really _cared_ about soulmates except for the fact they were all a sucker for a good mystery and they were all convinced Combeferre’s soulmate would be _cool_ and _possibly want to join l’ABC_ ) but when he met his friends for dinner at Joly, Bossuet and Musuchetta’s flat, Joly had looked a little down so he casually brought it up. It was meant to be all of them but Musichetta was watching the bakery and Enjolras, Grantaire and Courfeyrac were all MIA which was probably fine but if it wasn't Combeferre didn’t want to know about it until he absolutely had to. 

“Combeferre,” Bossuet said suddenly in the middle of explaining the way the sea bobbed under him and the way the moon shone through the sails. “Not that I don’t doubt your soulmate is some sexy seventeenth century pirate but…the Intrepid is the ship from Ketch.”

Combeferre, of course, didn’t really think his soulmate was a pirate (although there _were_ those whose soulmates were born hundreds of years before or after them), but it still caught him off guard. “What’s Ketch?”

Bossuet looked at him like he was a stranger. “Um, only my favorite show where have you been the past five years?” 

Joly grabbed the remote before Combeferre could figure out if he should really know Bossuet’s favorite show or not and had an episode on in a couple seconds. He fast forwarded through a few scenes and then hit play when a ship was on screen. There was some kind of mock trial going on but Combeferre only had eyes on the ship, on the masts, on the sails. 

“Oh.” Combeferre said, frowning. That _was_ the ship from his dream, there was some faded purple paint on the railing that had caught the moonlight. 

“Really?” Bossuet asked, and Joly had his phone up and he was typing away so quickly they could hear his nails tapping against the screen. 

“I mean, at least I think so? The paint’s the same on the rail but—“

“They film in Cape Town.” Joly said and then frowned as he read on. 

Bossuet reached across the table and tapped Combeferre’s hand. “I know I made you tell me everything already but tell me everything again.”

Joly made a small sound of surprise and both of them turned to him. He looked up and then back down, “A couple of the actors are French. Two or three, no one major—but they’re reoccurring!” 

“My soulmate isn’t necessarily French.”

“Yeah but we can’t convince an American to introduce you to the entire cast.” Bossuet frowned and rolled his eyes a little. 

“We _could_ but none of us has that kind of time to take off.” Joly mused, biting his lower lip as he continued to scroll on his phone. 

“Wait they sometimes film in Paris!” Bossuet said suddenly with such vigor that both Joly and Combeferre flinched. “remember when Grantaire’s graffiti was in the background of one of the scenes—Remember I was so mad he drunkenly broke onto the set of my show and didn’t steal a prop! Joly you have to find them and convince them to have you cater for the crew.” 

“Sure let me just call up the film crew and ask them what flavors I should invoice them for.” Joly rolled his eyes. 

Bossuet narrowed his and leaned forward, “I don’t like the tone but I like the gumption.” 

“Guys.” Combeferre said, a little self-conscious. A soulmate was nothing to get worked up about. Their own girlfriend occasionally wrote DO NOT CONTACT ME on a piece of paper and stared at it in hopes her soulmate dreamt of that moment. Not that there was anything wrong with her soul dreams, but she just wasn’t interested. Mostly she did it when they did too many shots, almost like a party trick. 

Bossuet rounded on him as Joly pulled out his phone and started to tell someone there was a family emergency and they were to come home immediately. Bossuet opened his mouth to speak but Joly then told whoever it was to leave work so Combeferre held up a hand to silence Bossuet and grabbed the phone from Joly with the other.

“Oh my god—what’s happened?” Musichetta was saying. 

“Nothing.” Combeferre sighed with a glare towards Joly, who looked nonplussed. 

“We have found Combeferre’s soulmate!” Joly called into the phone and Combeferre pushed his face away. Joly giggled and let himself be pushed. 

“Really?” Musichetta asked, a bit of a smile was audible in her voice. 

Combeferre shrugged although she couldn’t see it. For someone who routinely tried to send souldream DNI’s, she sure sounded awfully breathless at the prospect of finding his. “I have memories of the ship from Bossuet’s favorite show? I wouldn’t say we’ve _found_ them.” 

Musichetta gasped, and _this_ is why the three of them were his idea of a healthy relationship, for all their differences they had the same priorities. “The Intrepid? I’m on my way home!”

Combeferre began to protest but Joly ducked under his still outstretched hand and plucked the phone away from him. He went off into the room loudly shouting Courfeyrac’s name. Combeferre was always surprised at how Joly took soulmates. Joly’s soulmate, Anne-Claire, had been sick her entire life and had died as a teenager, leaving Joly unsettled and a bit weightless. He remembered her telling her friends goodbye but he was still here, still fully present in the moment living a life his soulmate was robbed of. Musichetta had actually been one of her friends and had been friends with Joly for years before he remembered something that made her realize who his soulmate had been. That had been the first time they had broken up. They had broken up a lot before they realized they were missing Bossuet. Sometimes, Combeferre was glad all his relationships were short lived and amicably ended. 

Bossuet, who had been waiting patiently for his turn to speak (and who had turned the show back on presumably so they could watch it), turned back to Combeferre, grinning, “it’s fate that your soulmate is involved with your best friend’s soulmate’s best friend’s favorite show, Combeferre, even you can’t deny that.” 

Combeferre was pretty sure he could if he was in the habit of denying things, but, seeing as he never liked to say never, he kept quiet and let Bossuet explain the characters.

* * *

Fate entered their lives a few months later in the form of Cosette Fauchelevent. 

It was a Wednesday and it was snowing. Combeferre leaned on the counter of Joly’s bakery, Anne-Claire’s, he had just gotten off a shift at the museum where he had had a lovely but long day talking to no less than four school groups about mummies and hieroglyphics. He loved university and he loved studying law but there was no chance he was giving up his part time job at the museum anytime soon, even when he had to keep his head propped up on his fist while helping Joly out at the bakery. 

He was half asleep but other than several people nursing coffees and hot cocoas (Anne-Claire’s was Insta famous for their cocoa) the shop was quiet. Presumably Joly was around somewhere but he tended to disappear in the back and come out with some hit-or-miss sweet that he passed around for free to whoever was in the room. Anne-Claire’s was a favorite spot of some of the residents and nurses at Necker–Enfants. It helped that they always made a yearly donation and did events there all the time. It was more in honor of Anne-Claire being Musichetta’s friend rather than because she had been Joly’s soulmate. It was hard to look at Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta and think they could be more in love with anyone else. 

Cosette was unassuming, more chunky knit scarf than woman with a pompom atop her beanie that was nearly as big as her face. She looked around, smiling, as she pulled her gloves off and stuffed them into a large pirate-patterned tote. Joly chose that moment to emerge from the back, slipping his phone into his apron as he did so, he smiled at her as he leaned on the counter, “Can I help?”

“Do you have a catering menu? I’m throwing a birthday party for a friend of mine and we’re renting a space in the Musée national de la Marine.” Her voice was breathless and cheerful. She had instantly reminded Combeferre of Courfeyrac.

“Oh that sounds incredible.” Combeferre smiled politely. He loved working parties at museums (which he had done both with work and with Anne-Claire’s) although he hated how it closed areas for the general public. 

“Yeah, we all work in the arts and right now our project has to do with the sea. My name’s Cosette by the way.” She looked at both of them like she was waiting for more but Combeferre and Joly were both professional and knew better than to prod. People were all too willing to divulge their soulmates' dreams to anyone in earshot. 

“I’m Joly, the owner and this is Combeferre. He’s actually just gotten off a shift at Louvre.” 

“I love the Louvre! I go at least once a year.” Cosette grinned. She glanced at the other customers and then leaned on the counter as Joly fetched a menu. “Mine and my friend’s current project is a tv show actually.” 

Joly shot Combeferre a glance as he placed the menu on the counter and Cosette began to look through it. Combeferre ignored him. 

“It’s called Ketch.” Cosette said without looking up, her finger trailed over the cupcakes and she twisted her lips into a little frown as she considered them. Combeferre froze because was she _serious_. He couldn’t dare look at Joly, he had been sending him gifs from the show near daily now. The only consolation was that the soulmate plot lines were minor and not all of them were positive. It was a surprisingly realistic portrayal of soulmatches. 

Joly let out a little squeak and pointed to the menu, “we can do cupcakes in whatever flavor you want and then if you pick a light frosting we can ombré the piping, sprinkle a little graham cracker on some and then make white chocolate shells. We can put a little luster dust on them and if you want them filled with a complementing flavor to the cake and frosting we can do that. Classy but still sea-worthy.”

Cosette had started grinning from the squeak and continued all through Joly’s plan. “Oh that sounds amazing. You know what you’re doing.”

“Combeferre is very interested in pirates.” Joly grinned and Combeferre glared at him. “We actually made these for a watch party last year.” 

“Really?” Cosette asked, propping her head up with her fist. She smiled charmingly at him and then stood up straight as if catching herself. 

Honestly, Combeferre hadn’t paid attention to the show for long enough to tell if they had a semi-famous actress in their shop or not. Judging by the fact that Joly hadn’t recognized her, Combeferre decided she must not be an actress. 

Lots of people had access to the ship though. His soulmate could have nothing to do with the show. The ship they used was a recreation but an older recreation. The memory could easily have been thirty years old. It also could be from the future. Memories didn’t abide by logical stretches of time. 

“So, Feuilly—this is for my friend Feuilly by the way—he likes almond and tropical flavors. Guava and passionfruit—citrus.”

“We can absolutely work with that.” Joly grinned and Cosette echoed it. There was a nagging in the back of Combeferre’s mind at how twin their smiles were but he pushed it aside. 

Cosette’s smile faded a bit and she twisted her hair around her finger, “This is an odd request but would you be able to provide some staff as well? Nothing major just so that in case there’s anyone with questions. And the museum will be open for the party so if you want to bring your families for a private tour you can. I feel a bit silly renting the entire place, it’s after hours but still—I’d hate to see this not be taken advantage of.” 

“That’s very generous.” Combeferre said to hopefully distract Cosette from the way Joly was kicking him in the shin. 

“We’ll do it.” Joly told her in a rush. “How many staffers are you thinking?” 

“Oh probably just a couple. But you can bring everyone and their families, I was quite serious with that—we’re bringing the kids from the group home and it’s going to be a really nice evening. We don’t want the museum to be empty, so please bring all your friends. I’ll give you my number and you can call me with how many people you’re bringing.” 

Joly kicked Combeferre again and then they both shook Cosette’s hand and gave her a small tray of cupcakes and a cocoa for the road.

Combeferre pointedly ignored Joly for the rest of the night and then turned his phone off so he didn’t have to listen to anyone else either. Joly and Grantaire had been using a lot of seafaring tags on the Instagram posts. Courfeyrac had followed no less than thirty production companies on Anne-Claire’s account. It wasn’t like Cosette had found them completely out of the blue. Well, probably--you never _did_ know.

* * *

The day of the party dawned grey and foggy but the weather didn’t put a damper on Combeferre’s friends’ moods. Joly had been in contact with Cosette and he insisted that she insisted that the more the merrier. 

Combeferre parked his car near the front of the building and immediately Courfeyrac hopped out. He had practically been vibrating with excitement ever since he found out about the catering gig. Joly was currently his favorite friend and he kept showering him in noisy kisses. Combeferre was actually a little nervous about introducing him to Cosette. Although it was sort of hypocritical of him to be so excited over the prospect of meeting Combeferre’s soulmate. Courfeyrac frequently had dreams that surrounded him in penguins and several of them, he swore, took place in Antarctica. Enjolras frequently told him the penguins were his subconscious’ way of telling him to calm down, not his soulmate’s memories, which amused and offended Courfeyrac to no end. Even with the frequent penguin dreams, Courfeyrac wasn’t in any hurry to go rushing off to Antarctica to find his soulmate (honestly, Combeferre was a little shocked to find out he had never even _looked_ into staff members on research trips). The most he said of it was to drag them over to the penguin exhibits whenever they went to an aquarium (so a grand total of maybe 5 times) and introduce himself to the penguins who couldn’t hear him inside their enclosure, _just in case_ his soulmate was a penguin. Joly and Grantaire thought he was absolutely hilarious. Combeferre thought it was a bit hypocritical of him to suddenly care so much about Conbeferre’s soulmate when he obviously didn’t care that much of his own. 

“We don’t even work for Anne-Claire’s.” Enjolras sighed, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Joly had outfitted everyone in brand new matching t-shirts. They all had shirts of course but none that were the same color and free of stains and creative alterations. 

“Nonsense,” Grantaire frowned and took Enjolras’ hand, “think of all the times we had to watch the shop and all the taste testing we’ve been subjected to. Plus we need to seduce this Feuilly character as a friend group so he can introduce us to Combeferre’s soulmate. Or do you want Combeferre to go sans-soulmate all his life. A Perseus without an Andromeda, a Psyche without an Eros. Combeferre, who stitched up Courfeyrac’s face and left hardly a scar when he was fourteen.”

“Ew, do you remember that?” Courfeyrac asked, frowning at Grantaire pointedly. 

“I remember all of Enjolras’ worst moments. Ask me about the time he and you—“

“Absolutely not.” Courfeyrac frowned and then went on ahead. The door to the museum opened and Cosette stood there shivering in a dress. 

“You’re here!” Cosette grinned and then reached out and tugged a man into view. “Feuilly—they’re here!” 

Feuilly was vaguely familiar and Bossuet elbowed Joly sharply in the corner of Combeferre’s eye. The look on Feuilly’s face implied that he would not have to be seduced at all. He looked over them like they were the most interesting people he had ever seen. He looked at them and then hurried outside to help, despite it being his party. 

“Where do you want the cupcakes?” Combeferre asked because they were both looking at him. Being the tallest out of his friends sometimes regulated him to the first person in charge. 

Feuilly’s steps faulted as if the notion of cupcakes hadn’t ever occurred to him. “Right. I—love sweets.” Feuilly grinned in a way that would be suspicious if it hadn’t been so earnest. 

“Joly said you brought everyone?” Cosette interrupted, her gaze trailing over them all. 

Joly all but bounced his way to the front of their small crowd. “Yes we’re all here.” He ran through introductions so quickly, there was no chance either of them were going to retain any names. Cosette beamed at them all anyway. 

“We’re so glad you could make it—you can come this way to go inside.” Feuilly smiled and looked to Cosette, raising his eyebrows slightly as they all set off. 

It occurred to Combeferre that they were not here for the party at all. The glance Feuilly and Cosette just shared was much too scheming for that. 

But...

Oh. 

_Oh_. 

They knew who his soulmate was and they must have had a memory of the shop. Their half-baked marketing plan hadn’t brought Cosette to them. His soulmate’s dreams of Anne-Claire’s brought Cosette to their doorstep. That’s why she had been so lax about what cupcakes she was ordering. It had never been about the cupcakes. Combeferre looked around but his friends had all already wandered off. They weren’t doing the seducing, they were being seduced. 

It was oddly comforting that both his and his soulmate’s friends were apparently cut from the same cloth.

“Are you alright?” Feuilly asked, looking up at him. He was half a head shorter than him with reddish brown hair and freckles. Combeferre, aware that he was being scrutinized, nodded. Before he could respond, Feuilly took the cupcakes from him and waved him off. “Go have a look around, Cosette mentioned that you work at the Louvre?”

“Part time in Egyptian Antiquities.” 

“Thinking about returning some of the stolen artifacts yet?” Feuilly asked without really looking at him. 

Combeferre grinned because that was exactly the right answer, “I actually inquired about future plans the museum may have in regards to that very topic but, and I’m sure this will shock you, I was met with deafening silence.” 

Feuilly did a double take and smiled. “Alright, I saw some of your friends head off towards the golden age of piracy exhibit. I have to eat this entire tray of cupcakes on my own.” 

“It’s your birthday. Go wild.”

“Oh, I like you.” Feuilly grinned and then he took off in the direction Joly and Musichetta had gone. 

With the cupcakes handed off to the man of the hour, Combeferre allowed himself a moment to wander the museum in peace. He hadn’t been here in years and they had recently renovated. 

The fact that his soulmate’s friend’s—and in all likelihood his soulmate themselves—were here came second to the change to explore the Musée national de la Marine in relative quiet. There were several kids wandering the halls but they were on their best behavior, giggling and whispering in groups. Cosette had mentioned something about a group home but they must have expanded the invitation. A few adults wandered around as well. He caught Enjolras and Grantaire whispering in front of a large painting of the sea but they didn’t look up and he didn’t want to bother them. 

Combeferre paused in front of a small display of eighteenth century navigation tools. He was alone in the room and the lack of noise was equally unnerving and nice. 

“Excuse me.” A small voice behind him said, nearly causing him to jump from his skin, “but what is that?” Combeferre turned around to see a girl, not older than four or five, peering up at the sextant. A glance around the room showed that she had wandered in alone. He crouched down next to her but she didn’t look away. She was looking at the instrument like it held the secrets of the universe and who knows, maybe it did for her. 

“It’s a sextant.” 

“A _what_.” She frowned. 

“Sextant. Navigators used them to sail their ships.”

“Oh.” She smiled, “I’m a navigator.” 

Combeferre grinned because he didn’t doubt she was. “Do you want to know how it works?” 

She nodded, looking to him before looking back at the sextant. “Please.” 

“Okay so you look through the little eyepiece through that glass piece like you would with binoculars or a spyglass or—“

“Telescope!” 

“Exactly.” Combeferre smiled. “And then you move the arm so that the second mirror shows the moon or sun or stars. You write that number down along with the time you took the reading which you have to be very careful about so you use that instrument which is a chronometer.” Combeferre pointed the chronometer out, hopefully she could see it, the stand _was_ a little tall. 

“Chronometer. Cool” she echoed, standing up on her toes to see. 

“An hour or two later you do it again.” 

“Nice.” She nodded and Combeferre almost laughed but held his tongue. 

“You draw it on a map and see where the lines cross and then use that along with the course you’re on and how fast you're going to do some math to figure out where you are.” 

“Math?” She frowned, sinking back down onto the soles on her feet. 

There was a squeak of shoes on the linoleum and Combeferre turned around to see he had an audience, a man had come over with a couple more kids, his hair was long and red, piled up on his head in a messy bun. 

“Zelie, I see you found someone to talk to.” He said to the little girl next to Combeferre. 

She grinned and peaked up at him, “did you know that people used to ask math directions instead of your phone?” 

“Yes, and if you’re thinking of switching over to math instead of stealing people’s phone, you better learn what comes after five.” He smiled warmly like it was his phone that had been stolen and they did this back and forth every day. 

“It’s six.” She chirped, raising her chin haughty and stood on her toes to look at the sextant again.

“That won’t help you find Starbucks.” He continued but the kids were all preoccupied by the display and Zelie began whispering how it worked by measuring stars.

“You’re with Anne-Claire’s Bakery?” The man asked. One of the boys still clung to his hand but neither of them seemed aware of it. He was looking at Zelie and the man was looking at Combeferre.

Combeferre stood back up, “I’m friends with the owner. His girlfriend and I are the only ones who drive sanely enough to transport the orders.” 

Grinning, the man brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, “Those chocolates are incredible, I ate three off the kids cupcakes.” 

That brought the boy’s attention back to their conversation and he stomped his feet as he puffed out his cheeks, “yes! That was bad!”

“I think we have some extras if you’re interested.” Combeferre told them because Joly had momentarily blacked out while making chocolates and they would be eating them for weeks if they didn’t give them away. 

“Am I!” The boy shouted, trading the man’s hand for his own. 

At the mention of sweets, Zelie turned to the others. “I can trade math for some sweets.” She grinned. 

“Well alright. Monsieur…”

“Combeferre.” 

“Combeferre.” He smiled and held out his hand, “I’m Jean Prouvaire.” 

Combeferre shook it with his free hand and then Zelie took it the moment it fell back at his side. “Let’s go find some sweets, shall we?” 

“Jehan’s brother is a pirate!” Zelie told him only after they started walking towards the food, as if she didn’t want them to get distracted before they put the chocolate plan in motion. 

Jehan laughed quietly, “he’s an actor on Ketch, it’s—“

“His birthday!” One of the boys cried and skipped a little in excitement. 

Combeferre smiled and then looked to Jean Prouvaire, “Oh, you’re Feuilly’s brother?” 

Jehan nodded, “adoptive. The kids all love him, don’t you, because he always spoils you and brings you presents from South Africa?” 

The kids gave a little cheer that started low, went high and then went low again. 

“For the record. I didn’t teach them that.” Jean Prouvaire told him with a lopsided smile. 

Combeferre only shook his head, laughing a little as he had been caught extremely off guard by the synchronized cheering. Jean Prouvaire had been very quick with that protest and Combeferre found he didn’t believe him at all. 

They reached the table with the cupcakes which was unattended like he knew it would be. _Can you provide staffing_ his ass. He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it sooner. The odds of Cosette showing up due to pure coincidence were astrologically low. The odds of her showing up because of the marketing strategy were even lower. Not nonexistent but still nearly impossibly low. 

He ducked behind the table and found where someone had stashed the extra chocolates. “Here we go. One each and then if you want more you need to ask someone else.” 

The kids all held out their hands and Combeferre dutifully handed them out. Then Jean Prouvaire held out both hands which prompted a second wave of hands and Combeferre let them make him a liar and gave them all a second piece. 

The kids ate the chocolates while giggling and Jean Prouvaire asked them what they wanted to do next. Almost in unison they cried pirates and then did their high low high cheer again. Jean Prouvaire shook his head as Combeferre grinned. Sometimes kids had the weirdest inside jokes. 

“What do we say to Combeferre?” Jean Prouvaire said and the kids all chorused _thank you_ with varying levels of full mouths. None of them had gone for another cupcake through which impressed him a little bit. Enjolras and Courfeyrac used to scarf down sweets until they were sick when they were kids. Courfeyrac still did. Enjolras as well when he was upset. 

Jean Prouvaire grinned and Combeferre found himself smiling back. He always loved doing events for kids. They were so earnest and open to the world around them. It was nice meeting someone who appreciated their sincerity as much as he did. The other man looked away, as if catching himself staring, “Okay, who wants to go see a pirate ship!”

The children all started shouting at once and they took off in the opposite direction but Combeferre couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

“Who were you talking to?” Bossuet asked quite suddenly, appearing at his elbow. It was a testament to the type of friends he had that Combeferre didn’t even flinch. He looked after Jean Prouvaire as he led the kids away. 

“That was Feuilly’s brother. Jean Prouvaire.”

Bossuet raised an eyebrow and frowned a little in consideration as he watched Jean Prouvaire walk away. “A brother. _Interesting_.” 

Combeferre simply did not want to follow his train of thought so he turned and walked away. 

“That’s alright.” Bossuet told his back, unperturbed. “I know you well enough I can find your soulmate on my own.” 

Combeferre hoped that wherever his soulmate was, they were enjoying their night before Bossuet crashed into them. Although, he sort of doubted he could find his soulmate just by a conversation. 

“Sandwich?” Feuilly asked, appearing just as suddenly as Bossuet had. They were really cut from the same cloth which gave worryingly credibility to the whole soulmatching thing. Although, to be fair, there was never much talk of the friend circles surrounding soulmates so this might be an abnormality. It was a glaring oversight if you asked him. 

“Thank you.” Combeferre said, taking the proffered plate and taking a bite of the tiny sandwich. 

Feuilly grinned, “I see my brother and his tiny posse suckered you into giving them extra chocolates.” 

“Joly made close to a year’s supply, if they come back around I’ll give them more.” 

“Please don’t. Madam Boudreaux will be so angry with me if I send the kids home on a sugar high. Although, not all of them are hers. We invited the kids' friends as well and their parents are about. I don’t remember the museum being this big but they did just remodel.” 

Cosette chose that moment to sweep over, Courfeyrac was talking to Enjolras in the direction she had come from but it was probably fine. Technically no one had confirmation that anyone’s undiscovered soulmate was here. It could be that his friends had gotten into his head. Cosette grinned at him, “I _love_ your friends. We’ll be using your bakery again. I was reading online and it’s named after one of your friends? I’m so sorry for your loss.” Cosette frowned, changing tune in the same breath, and handed Combeferre and Feuilly both little cartons of water. They thanked her and looked out over the party. There was actually a fair amount of people here. 

Feuilly’s eyes had widened a little at her forwardness before schooling his expression neutral but Combeferre knew how chatty Joly got on the phone. “Anne-Claire was a childhood friend of Musichetta—Joly’s girlfriend.”

“Oh—that’s right. His soulmate!” Cosette gasped because of course Joly had been gossiping about soulmates to her. Combeferre nodded. 

Cosette and Feuilly glanced at each other and Combeferre decided to just rip the bandaid off so they didn’t have to struggle more than they had to. “It’s a comfort to him to know his soulmate was happy despite everything. Not because she was his soulmate but because she was Musichetta’s friend. We don’t really take much stock in soulmates as a whole. I haven’t found mine yet but it doesn’t keep me up at night.” 

“What would happen if you found them?” Cosette asked hesitantly after a moment and Combeferre shrugged. 

“Introduce myself same as I would anyone else. I don’t have any concrete souldreams of them, to be honest. Maybe one or two at most.” 

Cosette and Feuilly were both playing at nonchalant but were obviously hanging onto his every word. 

“How about you?” He asked to give them another verbal nudge. 

They both gave identical shrugs before realizing what they had done and they laughed. Cosette spoke first, “I think the notion of a soulmate can be romantic but we’re not really fans.”

Feuilly, who had been either biding his time or holding his tongue, put a hand on his hip, “That being said, and please don't think we’re hypocrites, but I think we found my brother’s soulmate.” 

“Oh.” The word slipped unabated from Combeferre’s lips as he looked off in the direction Jean Prouvaire had gone. Well, it wasn’t the worst thing to be soulmatched with someone who both literally stole candy from children and who had inside jokes with them. 

“He had dreams of someone drawing up a menu for Anne-Claire’s. Something about shots and a business model. That was a couple years ago and he only recently mentioned that he had seen the name of the bakery. Before he only mentioned the business plan.”

The more he learned about Jean Prouvaire, the more Combeferre found himself liking him. 

Before he could think of how to respond, there was a small crash by one of the tall tables and they all spun around to see Bossuet and Jehan on the ground, surrounded by a couple cups and spilled drinks. The table was rocking a little but it didn’t fall. 

“Hello, Jean Prouvaire.” Bossuet grinned from the ground. “I’m Combeferre’s friend Bossuet.” 

“My friends call me Jehan and I feel that’s what we are.” The man said, getting to his feet. Bossuet looked around and his eyes landed on Combeferre, he pointed to the man next to him and Combeferre sighed. “Sorry about the mess.” He told Cosette and Feuilly. 

“Oh nonsense.” Cosette grinned and Feuilly waved a hand. 

“I’m much more interested in the fact that I think you’re my brother’s soulmate.” 

Combeferre looked at him and then away. _My brother’s soulmate_ held a weight that Combeferre felt Feuilly didn’t exactly mean. It was always like that though. The notion of soulmate meant something important, something real. Soulmate was just another word for a stranger that knew too much about you. 

“We want to know—“ Cosette said, all breathless smiles, “do you have any memories of the show? Jehan’s an assistant set designer.”

“I remember someone climbing around in the rigging. And bobbing in a boat next to The Intrepid. Bossuet had just recently informed me it was from your show.” 

“Oh he thought his soulmate was a pirate.” Feuilly frowned but there was a light in his eyes that let Combeferre know he was in for the long haul with teasing. 

“No! That’s what we were worried about!” Cosette frowned but her giggles ruined her sincerity. 

Combeferre looked at the pair of them evenly. “You can laugh but Bossuet is going to want to see the set.” 

“Oh I’ve already promised him I can get him on as an extra.” Feuilly said with a little shrug as if he didn’t know this was the only thing Combeferre was going to be hearing for the next decade at least. He could see the viewing party now. They would probably have to close the bakery early and put a projector up in the front. 

Combeferre looked back to Bossuet and whatever his expression was caused Grantaire to drag Enjolras over to him. Courfeyrac was on his phone and aimlessly trailing behind them. 

“What’s he done?” Grantaire asked but it was worth noting he hadn’t gone to help Bossuet and Jean Prouvaire clean up. 

“Found my soulmate apparently.” Combeferre told him and both Enjolras and Courfeyrac looked up. 

“You were going to be nonchalant with this.” Enjolras frowned, looking between him, Cosette and Feuilly. 

Combeferre shrugged, “No one here has any cool and honestly I expected better from the actor.” 

“Sorry.” Feuilly grinned, “but Jehan’s dreams paint you in a very badass light. I was a little star stuck to meet you actually. I didn’t believe it was going to be this easy.” 

“He is badass.” Grantaire told them flatly. 

Drawn by the crowd, and with the mess straightened out, Bossuet tugged Jean Prouvaire over to them. 

Jean Prouvaire smiled up at him like he met soulmates every day, “Hello again. I’m Jehan, I’m sorry I’m not a pirate. Did you really shove your friends father off a moving train?” 

“What the fuck.” Enjolras and Courfeyrac both gasped at once and Combeferre felt himself blushing.

“It wasn’t moving fast and he had literally just punched Courfeyrac in the face. What was I supposed to do? Let him find you?” 

“I knew it was suspicious that he broke his arm the same night we ran away!” Courfeyrac whispered, turning to Enjolras who did not look amused, and Combeferre shrugged. 

“I can’t believe you used your birthday as an excuse to find my soulmate.” Jehan said, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing attention from the pair of them. He turned to Combeferre a split-second later, “Please don’t be offended, but I’m not impressed by the notion of soulmates.”

“It’s a violation of privacy.” Combeferre agreed.

“Exactly! There were so many poems of dreams in my undergraduate writing seminar that I quit the program entirely and focused on set design.” 

Cosette sighed, “He’s very good at set design but he’s a better poet.” 

“I don’t blame you. I think about quitting my law course at least once a week for that very reason.” Combeferre said to hopefully distract from the fact Courfeyrac was making an impressed sort of expression and Enjolras had reached down to hold Grantaire’s hand as if in shock. 

“Good on you for staying the course. The only reason Feuilly convinced me to apply for a job on this show was, well one, he was on it, and two the writers’ takes on soulmates is usually regulated to the B-plot.”

“I haven’t seen a lot of it but I was pleasantly surprised.” 

Jehan frowned and looked to Feuilly who grinned, “I bet him a twenty that his soulmate didn’t watch the show.” 

Jehan huffed, “Yes, well, it's because he’s busy dismantling the systematic oppression the chains of soulmatching places upon society. Not because he doesn’t have taste.” 

“He _also_ doesn’t have taste.” Courfeyrac frowned, butting in the moment he regained control over his expression. Combeferre did not like how quiet he had been, a quiet Courfeyrac was a busy Courfeyrac. Combeferre tried to catch his eye but Courfeyrac only looked away, grinning slightly. 

Oh he was absolutely up to something. 

“Here. Excuse us a moment.” Jehan said, reaching out to grab Combeferre’s wrist gently. He tugged him away, back towards the chairs Cosette had come from and where Enjolras and Courfeyrac had been before Grantaire found them and dragged them over. Digging around in the coats he made a tiny little pleased sound as he pulled out a phone. One corner of the screen was completely shattered. Combeferre had a feeling he knew what they were doing over here. 

“My brother and Cosette seem quite taken by you so I think I’ll give you my number.” Jehan turned to face him, unlocking his phone and pulling up his contacts. 

“I think you’ll find mine already in your phone, I saw Cosette and Courfeyrac by your things before looking devious.” 

Jehan pursed his lips slightly and scrolled down on his phone, “So it is. Well, let me put mine in yours so we don’t lose this little ceremony.” 

Combeferre held out his phone and Jehan took it solemnly. 

He was a little loathe to admit it, but he really liked this Jehan Prouvaire. 

“So what are you too talking about over there?” Courfeyrac called and Jehan surprised him by grinning. 

“I don’t care much for soulmates but I do think I like your friends. Did you know Cosette and Joly have been texting quite frequently. She keeps saying it’s professional but you don’t send cat memes to your caterer at half past eleven.” 

“You’d be surprised what people did.” 

“I don’t know if I want to know or not.” 

“Maybe over a drink.” Combeferre sighed and then caught himself. He turned to Jehan to assure him he hadn’t mean anything by it but Jehan only shook his head like he understood. 

“Listen. I’m not trying to brush the soulmate thing aside but we’ve exchanged numbers and I just want to let you know that both Cosette and Feuilly haven’t found their soulmates yet so if we want to tease them about it, there’s nothing stopping us.” 

“They did set you up at your brother’s birthday party. They rented this entire space.” Combeferre agreed with a little shrug. “I don’t know where Joly and Musichetta are but Joly was the biggest instigator in this just so you’re prepared.” 

“None of them scare me.” Jehan led the way back over to their little group. “I left the pair of them with the kids. Zelie was demanding to know what sort of clothes a pirate captain wore.” 

“I don’t want to upset you but Joly’s been swearing your soulmate was Feuilly’s brother for weeks.” Grantaire told him as soon as they reached them, reaching out and putting a comforting hand on Combeferre’s arm. 

“Are you serious?” Combeferre asked, laughing while frowning and Grantaire nodded solemnly. 

“Feuilly has been having recurring dreams that he’s riding a shopping cart and crashing into the Arc de Triomphe.” Jehan announced loudly.

“It’s metaphorical.” Feuilly immediately protested, holding his hands up as if to silence the conversation before it started. 

Grantaire’s lips twisted into a frown and he tilted his head as he looked to Feuilly, “would you believe me if I told you I know a guy?”

Combeferre glanced sideways to catch Courfeyrac’s eye and they both grinned. Behind Courfeyrac, Jehan smiled and rolled his eyes. When he noticed Combeferre looking at him and frowned pointedly and shook his head to let him know he was also unamused by the notion of his brother’s soulmate--even if it had been his idea to bring it up. Combeferre smiled because he understood completely. 

* * *

_two years later_

Combeferre didn’t believe in soulmates, nevermind the fact he was dating his. It might have been dreams of a pirate ship that brought Jehan into his life but it was their waking moments that made it real and worthwhile. 

Jehan wrapped his arms around his neck, all but draping himself over the back of Combeferre’s chair. He sighed and Combeferre rolled his eyes, knowing full well what he was being forlorn about.

“You can call Feuilly you know. It’s not that early in Canada.” 

“He’s filming.” Jehan sighed again. “I don’t like working on different shows.” 

The pair of them were supposed to be watching the bakery because Joly and Bahorel (who once broke Grantaire’s nose in fencing practice and who happened to be Feuilly’s soulmate—and no, the dreams hadn’t been recurring Bahorel had crashed a shopping cart into the Arc de Triomphe _several_ times) were in the back trying to perfect some fall treats. 

Jehan currently had several tables covered in fall decorations. He had appointed himself the official decorator of Anne-Claire’s because he was the _only one with taste_ . He was currently wearing a pumpkin patterned romper and a candy corn colored sweater with one of Enjolras’ beanies and two strands of autumn leaf garland so _taste_ was obviously subjective here. 

Kissing his cheek, Jehan pried himself away and went over to the display to look at the chocolates. 

“I don’t know who’s worse, you or Courfeyrac when it comes to eating too many sweets and making yourself sick.” 

“This is why everyone thinks he’s my soulmate instead of you.” Jehan’s voice was the light and clipped tone he used when he was pretending to be angry. 

“He can have you if you want. You give me weird dreams.” Now that he had someone to bounce dreams off of, quite a few of them turned out to be Jehan’s memories. He had spent a lot of time wandering the woods as a little feral child. 

Jehan gave a soft, offended gasp and then moved across the room to where Madam Boudreaux’s foster kids were doing homework, “more cocoa?” 

There was a rousing cry of yes please. Anne-Claire’s, after they added Jehan and Feuilly to their rotation of part time staff, became a favorite of several x classes as well. Joly was planning on doing a fundraiser for a school trip in the spring. Hence the paperwork spread out over Combeferre’s table. 

Jehan swooped over to the counter with their mugs and went about getting them refills. The entire table was currently obsessed with the strawberry cocoa but they were focusing on their homework still. Sometimes they received help from some of the teaching hospital residents and it was nice to have this sort of mini community in their tiny little corner of Paris. 

The kitchen door opened as Jehan headed back to the kids’ table and Joly came out with a bit of flour smudged on his nose. “Okay, we’ve made something for lunch and Bahorel’s made _pumpkin soup_.” 

“I’ll have you know Feuilly loves this recipe.” Bahorel protested, coming out with a tray right behind him. Jehan sidestepped him as he went to take his place behind the counter in a show of _yes I’m taking this non-paying job seriously._

“Is that what that argument was about? Soup?” Jehan laughed, leaning on the counter. There had been raised voices about an hour ago but no one really batted an eye. There had been no customers at that time.

“There’s nothing wrong with butternut squash soup. There’s no need to bring pumpkin into it.” Joly huffed. 

Joly was usually more than willing to bring pumpkin into literally everything so they must be midargument. 

The front door opened with a soft twinkling of chimes Feuilly had bought back from the set of his latest movie (ominously he mentioned that props was looking for it and forbade them from posting it to Instagram) and Combeferre turned to see who it was. 

There were only three paying customers in the bakery at the moment and they were whispering amongst themselves by the window. 

Courfeyrac paused in the doorway and frowned at them all. “It’s just me. I came to help with decorations.” 

Jehan beamed at him as he slipped out from behind the counter, “This is why you’re my favorite.”

“Likewise, Jehan.” Courfeyrac grinned back. 

Combeferre smiled and looked back to his papers. 

“Here.” Bahorel said, placing a bowl of soup in front of him, right in the middle of a flyer Grantaire had drawn. “Have to keep my future brother-in-law healthy.” 

Jehan and Courfeyrac both laughed at that because Feuilly and Bahorel may have been soulmates but they weren’t dating. Feuilly kept threatening marriage whenever he was cross and Bahorel was his date to nearly every red carpet event Feuilly went to (which wasn’t many but was still at least one a year) where he told everyone: _yes he was Feuilly’s soulmate_ . _Do you want to guess what dreams were memories and which were the result of eating pickles after midnight?_

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt Feuilly’s career and they actually sometimes got fans wandering into Anne-Claire’s. Bahorel was fond of making incomprehensible tik-toks that earned him a small fan following of his own. Combeferre tried not to pay attention to it so he was always shocked to find out people recognized him from some. He had never actually watched any to keep up plausibility. 

“Courfeyrac, can you hang this above the doorway?” Jehan asked, unwrapping one of the garlands from around his neck. Courfeyrac dutifully accepted it and roped Bahorel in to help him hang it evenly. “I need Combeferre’s help in the back for a second. I think I left something in the office.” 

Combeferre was pretty sure all the autumn decorations and then some were already in the front of the house but he followed his boyfriend into the small office anyway. He might have made some more when he wasn’t looking. 

As he thought, there were no decorations in the office but Jehan shut the door behind them and Combeferre found himself grinning even as he rolled his eyes. 

“I thought for sure I’d never get you to myself.” Jehan sighed and pushed Combeferre down into the office chair. It squeaked under him but it didn’t stop Jehan from crawling into his lap. Combeferre wrapped his arms around his waist and looked at him, trying for stern but the curve of his lips betrayed him. 

“Were you waiting for them to come out so that you could drag me back here to make out like teenagers at their first job?”

“What kind of first job did you have?” Jehan laughed, making a face. 

“We only have a couple of minutes before Bahorel comes back here accusing us letting our soup go cold.” 

Jehan laced his arms around the back of Combeferre’s neck and rested their foreheads together. “I will be so cross if both of us end up with our soulmates.”

“Will you?” Combeferre leaned in and kissed him, going for a distraction but Jehan pulled away a moment later. 

“Yes. I might have to talk Courfeyrac into a marriage of convenience and you can move in next door either as a bachelor or with whoever he decides to start seeing.” 

Combeferre ignored him and kissed him again, lazy and content before a smile forced him to pull back, “You better find a place next to the aquarium then.” 

“I’ll get you some—“ Jehan broke off to kiss him again, humming a little against his lips, “—sweaters for Christmas. Maybe a little tent and some blankets as well.” 

There was a sudden banging on the door and then Bahorel hissed, “I swear to every last holy thing--this is a place of business, there are children here and your soup _is getting cold_!” 

Jehan laughed but he kissed Combeferre again, leaning against him as he laughed against his lips. Combeferre held him tighter as he stole another breathless kiss. 

On the other side of the door, Bahorel swore and then slipped into the room. The door shut with a click behind him. 

“Joining us?” Combeferre asked, knowing the reaction he was going to get.

Bahorel, taken by surprise, laughed loudly which made Jehan laugh harder and Combeferre just leaned back in the chair and smiled. Who needed dreams when the daylight was spent like this?

**Author's Note:**

> I played around with Combeferre's characterization a little bit in this one. I tried to focus on how he contradicts himself. I keep thinking about his speech in the brick about mothers waiting up for their sons heedless of the fact his own mother is waiting up for a son who will never return.
> 
> I don't think it made it into the fic but Cosette is 100% a costume designer. I was thinking about Catherine. 
> 
> PS it was 100% love at first sight for Jehan when he listened to Combeferre explaining 18th century sailing equipment. He is very patient with Combeferre because it takes him an entire year of dating before he realizes they're dating. But, being Combeferre, he somehow manages to save face and no one ever quite realizes he didn't realize.


End file.
